


The Right Partner

by ChronicOlicity



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Married Oliver Queen//Felicity Smoak, Olicity Fluff, Oneshot, Queen for Mayor, Romance, because of course, birthday fic, campaign!Oliver, complete mindless olicity fluff, olicity couple interview
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 02:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5272544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChronicOlicity/pseuds/ChronicOlicity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set sometime in the (near-ish) future of Legacies 3 when Oliver’s running for Mayor (spoiler, oops), and he's having a joint interview on morning television with his lovely wife.<br/>A birthday fic for my lovely spoiler/gutter buddy Pidanka.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Partner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pidanka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pidanka/gifts).



> Dedicated to my spoiler buddy/gutter-minded friend Pidanka. Happy birthday sweetie *muah*

“Taking on Ra’s and the League of Assassins,” Felicity muttered. “Taking on HIVE and Damien Darhk, sleeping with your father’s ex-mistress, teaching the revenge-happy mobster’s daughter how to use a crossbow instead of something non-violent like _yoga_ …”

Oliver looked over, having just received his talking points from their inexplicably Abercrombie-esque campaign manager Alex. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Felicity looked up at the ceiling, mostly to avoid losing her train of thought because of the ridiculously well-cut gray suit Oliver was wearing. “Listing all the questionably stupid things we’ve done over the years — all in the interests of reminding myself that a sit-down interview wasn’t an all-encompassing _Bad Idea_.”

“Felicity —”

“Yup, that’s it. I don’t think I can do this,” she declared, cutting off circulation in Oliver’s arm with one hand, and gripping the side of the yellow interview couch with the other. “Oliver, I’m not good in front of — _ack_ —”

She was cut off by a crew member shoving a fuzzy boom microphone between them. “Just doing a sound check, Mrs. Queen,” he said brusquely, before moving on.

“—cameras,” Oliver finished, remarkably steady despite the fact that he had to be losing all sensation in his fingers. “Felicity, the interview was your idea.”

“I _know_ ,” she moaned, a hand over her mouth. “Alex showed me the campaign numbers — you’re neck in neck with Castle over female voters and everyone — _everyone_ — watches Cat Grant’s morning show. We need this, and I thought that I could do the whole _Candidate’s Wife_ thing —”

“— pretending you don’t have a brain and nodding politely over everything I say,” Oliver suggested, his sarcasm making it perfectly clear what he thought of the norm.

“Well, I was thinking more along the lines of avoiding another word babble snafu, but basically — yes,” Felicity said, and winced at the memory of the _Leather and Tying People Up_ debacle from two weeks prior.

Otherwise known as _Fifty Shades of Queen_ scandal from the 2022 Starling City mayoral election, or — and Felicity was being generous here — the beginning of their campaign advisor’s exasperated reconsideration of their shared ability to go off-script.

Sure, their friends had found the whole thing endlessly amusing (Felicity had been _this_ close to suggesting that Roy get a refresher course in potty training from laughing so hard), but the dip with older voters and Donna Smoak calling to ask (in a rapturous whisper) if Oliver was one of those quote- _underground_ _bondage people_ -unquote…

Not so much.

“Oh god.” Felicity looked around desperately for the nearest trash can, just in case she needed to ralph.

Before she could bolt (no small feat, given the number of wires and thingamajigs crisscrossing the floor beneath her heels), Oliver caught her hand in his and pulled her back onto the couch.

“ _Felicity_ ,” he said, enunciating each syllable with deliberate care. “Relax. Deep breath.”

Felicity did, sucking in a breath of air so loudly and furiously that she felt the fitted waist of her green dress creak a little.

“For the record, I’m not running for mayor just so you can stand behind me and not make a face every time I say something stupid — because you’re brilliant, Felicity. Always were, always will be, and I’m not running for mayor because I want voters not to see the intelligent, brave —”

“—double negative, that’s a double negative—”

“— _beautiful_ woman I married,” Oliver finished. He had both her hands in his, trying and failing miserably at fighting a smile. “I married a genius, and I am _not_ running this campaign unless I have Felicity Smoak by my side.”

Felicity realized there were about a _hundred_ cameras positioned around the couch and a thousand more crew members in the background, not even mentioning the live audience below the dais, but she kissed him anyway.

Her aim was a little off — what with Oliver still commandeering both her hands — but they’d been married (and prone to fooling around) long enough for him to make up the difference.

There might have been some staring, definitely a cough or two from the crew, but Felicity couldn’t have cared less — and judging from the shameless smile she felt against her lips, Oliver agreed.

“Queen,” she whispered, once they’d both come up for air. “Smoak-Queen, technically, but still Felicity Queen.”

Oliver didn’t seem to notice (or mind) the fact that he had a generous amount of red lipstick smeared across his face. “There she is,” he said, and Felicity grinned.

* * *

“Sorry,” Felicity said, while Carol the makeup lady cleaned the residual ruby red lipstick off Oliver’s face. “I didn’t mean to mess… _that_ …up.”

“She meant to,” Oliver muttered, and Felicity slapped him lightly on the knee.

Carol just looked amused. “Whatever works best for you, Mrs. Queen,” she said, turning to Felicity with a gigantic powder brush. “Guests get nervous all the time. The way I see it, a little PDA beats straight vodka in a water glass.”

“Or three Benzos,” Felicity said, obediently sitting still for her lipstick to get retouched.

“We have a guy for that,” Carol said darkly, just as Alex walked over with the trademark clipboard and tablet under his arm.

“Five minute warning,” he said, conducting a not-so-subtle once-over to establish that neither of them were covered in lipstick smears. “Cat’s on her way down right now. We doing okay over here?”

Oliver looked at Felicity, his eyebrows slightly raised. “I don’t know,” he said, feigning innocence. “Are we?”

Felicity puffed out her cheeks. “Oh, just a minor freakout,” she said breathily. “Mayoral candidates can be _such_ divas.”

Oliver started to lean forward to kiss her, but Alex (with the kind of reflexes that came from extensive prior experience) shoved the clipboard between them, making an _ah-ah_ sound Felicity used whenever Hazel tried to use her slightly-younger brother as a pony. “Sorry guys, but I don’t think there’s enough time to redo your makeup,” he said, wiggling the clipboard to ensure there was at least a few inches of buffer space between the two of them.

Oliver’s back hit the couch with a faint thump. “Why do I keep you around, Alex?” he sighed, looking very much like he was considering the prospect of bending the clipboard in half.

“Because,” Alex said, seating himself on the coffee table in a businesslike fashion and producing a sheet of meticulous notes, “I am an _okay_ campaign manager who’s not too intimidated of the Green Arrow to tell him exactly what he thinks. Plus I went to Yale, but that’s not important.”

“I’m not intimidating,” Oliver said, sounding vaguely offended.

“You can break down drug syndicates and shoot arrows in half with more arrows, Mr. Queen,” Alex answered gravely. “With all due respect, that’s stretching the dictionary definition of the word _intimidating_. Honestly, the term I’d use is freaking _badass_.”

Only he didn’t say freaking.

“ _Alex_ ,” Felicity said, pretending to look shocked at his language. “We’re on morning television.”

“Duly noted, Mrs. Queen,” Alex chuckled. “Now before I let Cat have you, let’s just go over the campaign message again. We need to get women on your side, and that’s hard to do — even with a face like yours — if there’s a viable female candidate in the race, not even mentioning the fact that she’s a sitting mayor. Right now your numbers are neck in neck, and that’s good, but —”

“—we can do better,” Oliver said, finishing Alex’s catchphrase for him. “More affordable healthcare, increased paid family leave, and —”

“— don’t forget to mention environmental cleanup initiatives across the city. You test well with focus groups when it comes to the tough issues, but female voters tend to look at family, and the numbers go up when they see you with Mrs. Queen. Female voters prefer male candidates with strong family values, and thankfully, your marriage is the one area I do _not_ have to advise you about.”

“Except to stop us from acting like horny teenagers,” Felicity suggested.

“And the office-wide warning signs to _Knock Before Entering_ ,” Alex added, adding a note to his sheet. “A campaign isn’t a campaign without at least one sex scandal, but fingers crossed that _Fifty Shades of Queen_ is the last bad headline I have to smooth over.”

Oliver made a non-committal noise under his breath. “It’s still early,” he said dryly.

“One minute,” said one of the crew.

“Got it.” Alex tucked his pen back into his breast pocket and stood up. “Alright. You guys got this, or do I have to pull a fire alarm?”

Felicity laughed and caught Oliver’s eye. She slipped her arm through his, and felt his hand squeeze hers in response. “We got this,” she said, and Oliver kissed the side of her head.

“Absolutely.”

* * *

Spoiler alert: Cat Grant was _every_ bit as blonde and leggy as she looked on television. She also possessed an unexpectedly naughty sense of humor and an incredible whip-smart attitude that made Felicity (briefly) reconsider her preference for men.

Oliver was perfect. As much as he hated cameras and photoshoots, the ingrained Queen charm was out in full swing, and in a _Sexiest Man Alive-_ level gray suit, laughing and bantering with Cat like they’d known each other for years —  Oliver was every inch the mayoral candidate to vote for.

Felicity smiled shyly at her husband, still a little nervous under the camera’s scrutiny and hoping that Cat’s next step wasn’t going to put the spotlight on her.

Cue buzzer noise for _NOT_.

“I’m so glad I got the two of you on my couch today,” said Cat. “I thought I knew what a power couple looked like, but that’s not even _close_ to what you are. You’ve been married six years, and you’ve managed to spearhead the first vigilante league in history, protecting cities all across the country and taking on unbelievable threats to everyone’s safety like it’s just a regular Wednesday, all with two kids at home and a multi-billion-dollar company to run — I mean — how do you do it?”

“An _unbelievable_ amount of coffee,” Felicity said without thinking.

Thankfully, the audience seemed to find it funny, and Oliver came to the rescue before she could stick her foot in another verbal landmine. “We’ve always been a team,” he said. “Whether it’s at home with the kids, or out in the field, or running a mayoral campaign — we’ve always stuck together. I don’t know what I’d do without Felicity’s support, and I’m glad I have her as a partner.”

Felicity scrunched up her nose in a teasing way. “He just means that I know how to figure out the Wi-Fi router,” she said.

“That’s because you _invented_ the Wi-Fi router,” Oliver corrected, and Felicity gave him a playful nudge with her shoulder.

“Speaking of computers,” Cat continued, “Felicity, your husband’s been getting most of the spotlight during his mayoral bid, but I can’t have this interview without drawing everyone’s attention to your achievements, because frankly I’m just in awe. You graduated early from MIT with a master’s degree in Cyber Security and Computer Sciences,” she said, and Felicity almost jumped at the applause from the live audience. “You ranked on this year’s list of _Fortune 500_ CEOs and Forbes magazine’s _Most Powerful Women_ of 2022, your company Queen Industries is doing better than ever…I just have to ask — how did _this_ happen? How does one of the smartest women in the world end up with —”

“—a guy who dropped out of four colleges?” Oliver volunteered, to the amusement of the crowd. “Believe me, I wish I knew.”

Cat laughed, and Felicity felt the slight pressure of Oliver’s fingers in reassurance when he brushed his lips across her cheek.

The hammering of her pulse was still dangerously loud, but Felicity found herself smiling. Not just because Cat Grant was doing her best to make them both comfortable, not just because the room seemed to think (contrary to tabloid disparagement) that Oliver was the one who got lucky, but because, at the end of the day, she was beside the love of her life, and like he said…they were a team. Always.

And an interviewer was actually asking her why she loved Oliver Queen.

“It was the green leather,” Felicity said, and the audience whooped. “No, it wasn’t the archery — or the cheekbones — or the superhero thing. It was…”

She swore — _swore_ — the room was holding its breath a little. Especially Alex, given his familiarity with their skills at improv.

“His heart,” she said, simply. “Cheesy, I know, but it was because I saw him for who he was. A good guy with some… _interesting_ hobbies, not always perfect, but someone who’d give up anything and everything for a city he loved, no questions asked. Oliver’s never stopped fighting for Starling City, not as the Green Arrow, not as Oliver Queen, or a husband, a father, or a friend.”

Oliver’s arm was behind Felicity’s shoulders, and the smile they shared was one of pride, friendship — and love.

Always love.

“So I guess you could say this happened because…because he let me see his heart, and I did. That’s why I know he’ll be a fantastic mayor. He loves this city, and he’ll do anything to keep it safe,” she finished, and tipped her head to the side as she smiled at Oliver. “I got lucky.”

Oliver raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “So did I,” he said, and there was the softest noise from the audience, the quiet rush of a sigh.

“The hero and the hacker,” Cat said, beaming at them and the audience. “I think we can agree on the truth of the saying — opposites do attract.”

* * *

Alex stopped the playback after the final round of applause, looking like he needed caffeine in an IV. “You know, when I said that you should appeal to the female voters, I didn’t mean that you should spend the whole interview talking about how much you love your wife,” he said, and touched Felicity’s arm. “No offence.”

“None taken,” she answered. “It was kinda nice having my husband talk about me on TV.”

“We did cover the issues,” Oliver pointed out, completely straight-faced despite the fact that his hand was fiddling idly with her zipper behind everyone’s backs.

“Then you spent five minutes talking about Felicity’s work at Queen Industries,” Alex said. “Which is great — except it made me want to vote for her instead of you.”

Felicity raised her eyebrows. “I’m guessing it’s too late to announce my candidacy for _Supreme Overlord_ ,” she said.

“I liked it,” Thea said, lifting her shoulders. “The two of them were cute.”

“Right,” Diggle agreed. “Oliver even looked close to being _likable_. I don’t know about you, but I call that a win.”

“Funny,” Oliver said. “Look, Alex, I admit that I may have gotten a little distracted on air, but let’s wait for the focus group results before we —”

“— freak,” Thea interjected, obviously sensing her brother’s lack of a word.

“Right. If they’re worse, I promise we’ll stay on script the next time we do a joint interview.”

Alex held up his hands. “You’re right — I’m probably psyching myself out over nothing. Either way, it’s a good day’s work. We definitely made a difference to your poll numbers today.”

“And on that note,” Thea held up her phone. “Chinese food back at the campaign office? Roy’s picking up takeout.”

“Hell yes,” Diggle said, resting a hand on Oliver’s shoulder in passing. “The only thing they had backstage was chocolate-covered raisins. You guys coming?”

Felicity was already articulating a yes when she glanced at Oliver, and intercepted a full-on pleading _don’t_.

_Oh_.

Felicity waved them off, sensing a definite shift in Oliver’s determination towards her fastened zipper. “Just remembered…the whatsit,” she said, in response to Diggle and Thea’s raised eyebrows.

“Cat said what’s-her-face wants to talk to us about the whatsit and the whatever,” she said, and almost knocked over a vase of flowers with a jittery sweep of her arm.

Thea blinked. “I didn’t get any of that. Ollie?”

“Felicity needs to change,” Oliver translated smoothly. “We’ll meet you back at the office.”

“Right — _that_ whatsit,” she managed, his hand captured in hers to prevent it from getting any lower. “Can’t get moo shu sauce on this dress.”

Thea was already shaking her head, backing out of the dressing room like she wished she hadn’t asked.

“Really?” Diggle said sarcastically. “Just try to remember there are cameras outside, okay?”

Felicity made a slightly rude gesture with her finger, and the door swung shut with a click.

It was actually amazing how quickly Oliver had Felicity pressed up against the locked door, his hands sliding past the open zipper to caress her waist. Felicity groaned into the door when his knuckles teased the waistband of her underwear.

“That’s not — _ah_ — the door knob,” she laughed, shifting her hips to press more insistently against him. “Didn’t know you were this into morning shows — god knows you’re never interested in getting out of bed to watch them.”

Oliver nipped her gently on the neck before he lifted his head, resting his chin on the curve of her shoulder. “You’re one to talk,” he whispered. “Besides, I have Felicity Queen in my bed — _every_ morning.”

Felicity wrinkled her nose. “Never heard of her,” she said. “You sure you’re not making her up —?”

She broke off with a yelp of laughter, because Oliver spun her around, pushing her skirt up almost to her hips before sinking to his knees.

“Mr. Queen,” she said, as his thumbs stroked gentle half-circles on her thighs. “They might hear us.”

Oliver glanced briefly at the door behind her back. “A campaign’s not a campaign without some gossip,” he remarked. “ _Mrs._ Queen.”

“ _Sex scandal_ ,” Felicity whispered. “Alex having a premature embolism. Sister grossed out. Mom calling me about tabloid article. More bad headlines. Poll num— _oh holy f_ —”

Oliver’s face was hidden for obvious reasons, but she felt his laugh anyway, the shivers it sent running up and beneath her skin. Ever the model of determination, Oliver didn’t pull away, not in the slightest, and to put it in the simplest terms — it was impossible to say no to his tongue. Felicity dragged her fingers through his hair and let her head knock against the door.

“Is this your way of saying we need to do more interviews together?” she queried, wiggling her hips slightly to mirror the motions of his tongue. “Because this isn’t helping. Like…at all.”

Oliver’s mouth made a wet noise when it came away from between her legs, and he leaned back slightly on his heels. “Really?” he said, looking a little hurt. “You don’t like it?”

Felicity gave him a look. “When have I ever _not_ liked it?” she said. “No, that’s not what I mean. It’s just…the next time I’m doing an interview with you, I’ll…”

Oliver waited. “You’ll…?”

Felicity pressed her thighs together, her cheeks unbearably warm. “I’ll be thinking about _this_.”

Oliver laughed. “Good. At least we have _something_ in common,” he said, and Felicity felt his hands nudge her legs apart again.

The cool glide of his tongue made her breath catch, and her hips collided hard with the door. But _god_ was it hard to care.

“Oliver…” she gasped.

“Mm?” Deliciously, against her skin.

"I think Jimmy Olsen's been calling about having us on his show — should we...?"

Oliver's hair tickled her belly when he nodded, without pausing for breath. " _Absolutely_."

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY DANKA!!! Sorry there’s no new Arrow episode on your birthday, but hopefully this makes up for it a little??? May you have all the Pikao and shirtless Oliver Queen gifs (both regular and in reverse *cough cough*) that you could want, or just one freaking awesome birthday. You deserve it, girl :DDD


End file.
